As Lug made his way around the RV back to the door, Ally knew she had to move fast. A syringe! Is he going to inject the boys with the horse disease serum? They could die! Ally thought, afraid. Then she heard the voices above her. The two men were in the room with the boys again.
“Oh, please don’t let them hurt them, Lord,” she prayed.
But Ally had to act! Who knew how long the men would remain there or what they would do to Nick and John? Realizing there was no one to see her in the mirrors, she pulled herself out at the side of the tire and looked up, craning her neck around the edge. There! The air valve stuck out of the tire with a cap and screw knob on it. “Once they see they’ve got a flat, they’ll have to do something!” she muttered through clenched teeth.
Ally recognized this was a special cap that allowed you to let out the air more quickly. You had to take off the cap then turn it around and use the “tap” part to unscrew the valve stem. She’d done it a hundred times on farm equipment. One time she’d scolded Nick for doing it to a friend’s bicycle as a practical joke.
The tire was fixed right below the windows on the bedroom in the back. She slipped around and unscrewed the cap; it came off quickly. She turned it around and jammed it into the air hole where the valve stem was tight and slightly bent. She worked harder, giving it a twist with all her might.
But the cap broke!
“Oh, no!” she cried, then covered her mouth and listened. Did they heard me? No…. Voices above were shouting. It sounded like Pack and Lug were arguing. Are they bickering over what to do with the boys? Deciding they hadn’t heard her and unable to hear them, Ally flicked out the Swiss Army knife’s leather hole awl. She drove the blade into the valve and turned it, hoping to create enough pressure on the inside edge to turn the air opening. She heard a slight creak, like rust breaking. Then the tire valve stem turned. A second later a hissing sound broke the quiet. In another thirty seconds, the stem popped out onto the ground. Ally reached to grab it, then twisted around and glanced at the front mirror. No one was looking out at her. She picked up the valve stem and held it in place. The air hissed out, and she waited. Plans formed in her mind.
“Yes,” she said under her breath, “that’s the way to do it!” She looked up into the sky and gave God a thumbs-up.
While the air sputtered out of the tire, Ally crawled back to the end of the RV. Maybe she could do it to all four tires. Then she thought, No, that way they’ll know someone did it. This way, if I put back the valve stem, they won’t know I’m here.
Ally snaked back to the end of the RV and listened underneath the window to determine if Lug and Pack were still in the room. No sounds could be heard. She was tempted to take a look. Waiting and listening, she finally decided to give it a try. Climbing up the ladder, she looked in. Both boys lay on their faces, and Lug was bent over them.
She immediately ducked down, her heart beating wildly. She noticed the hissing sound was lower. The tire was almost flat. The RV had tilted slightly, but she hoped no one would notice until she carried out her plan. She listened one more time for voices.
Nothing.
Taking another long breath, Ally pulled herself up toward the window again, keeping to the side until she leaned to look in. Lug was gone. The boys were on their faces but wriggling.
Okay, she thought as she ducked back down and stood on the ground. Get that stem back in, and then hopefully they’ll try to move the vehicle or feel how it’s leaning. She crawled under the back end again and wriggled herself up to the tire. Glancing in the mirror, she saw no one was in the driver’s seat. She replaced the stem in the now flat tire and screwed on the cap.
“Now just let them try to drive,” Ally murmured. Luckily, Lug had not walked on that side of the RV, so he wouldn’t have noticed that the tire was fine only moments ago.
Giving the mirror one last glance, Ally paused to see if anyone appeared. Suddenly Pack plopped into the front seat, looking grim. Ally immediately ducked back under the RV. She waited a moment then slid to the back of the RV, hauling herself up by the back bumper. She climbed the ladder one more time, peeked in, and tapped on the window. Both boys looked up immediately. She gave them a thumbs-up and smiled then jumped off the ladder onto the ground. Keeping the back of the RV directly behind her so she couldn’t be seen in the mirrors, she stepped backward until she reached the woods.
Crouching in the brush and feeling confident, Ally said, “All right, you thugs! Just try to get away.”
Sixteen
Boys in Danger
Nick made John understand about his hidden knife through murmurs and flicks of his head and eyes. John slid forward on the bed as far as he could, and they both reached for it. Both boys strained, rolled slightly, pushed. No go. Then Nick felt a little lump under his chin. The knife was there—just under the sheet. Both of them scrabbled for position. Nick couldn’t pull his hand close enough, and John’s was stretched to the limit.
Nick murmured through the tape, “It won’t work.” He jiggled his chin, nudging the sheets and lump, trying to move it out from underneath. The sheet moved off it slightly. The plastic red handle with the cross in the shield was exposed.
Nick jerked it again with his chin, shoving it to the right. If he could slide it into the middle, they might be able to reach it with their hands. Just a few more inches.
The knife was plainly visible now. Just another three inches, Nick thought. He flopped, trying to jiggle the knife farther to the side. He squirmed, pushing himself closer. By moving both his eyes, he made John understand what he was trying to do.
A sudden commotion at the bedroom door made John and Nick freeze. They didn’t dare look at the knife.
The door opened.
“This stuff’ll put you guys out,” Lug said as he set the case down in a corner. Pack stood behind him. “By the time you’re awake, we’ll be long gone.”
Nick could see John motioning with his eyes. Out of the corner he could see the little nub of red exposed. If they saw the knife, what would the men do? Certainly not worse than they’d already done. But what were they going to inject them with? Surely not the disease serum!
Nick thought of trying to nudge the sheet up over the knife, but he knew that might just call attention to it. They couldn’t cover it anyway.
Lug moved about, fiddling with the things in the chest. Pack was watching him, making comments.
“You sure we should do it now? They’ll be heavy to move.”
“We can drop them off anywhere then, idiot. You’ll see. It’s the best way.”
Lug squinted nastily at the boys. Nick wondered what could be done as Lug drew out a hypodermic needle and a vial of liquid. “See, we’re pros at this kind of stuff. That’s why we was hired. We know how to get the job done.”
Glancing at John, Nick made no other movement. He hoped Lug wasn’t planning to inject them now.
John suddenly rolled on the bed, groaning and writhing. The movement pushed the sheet up, almost covering the knife.
Lug’s eyes nearly popped. He sprang over to John, dropping the needle. “What’s a matter, boy?”
John just writhed.
Lug ripped off the tape that covered his mouth.
Nick winced with a recognition of the pain.
“I’m cramping up,” John cried. “I’m diabetic, and I’m cramping up.”
Nick knew John wasn’t diabetic. But he also knew that a diabetic could have convulsions if he didn’t have the right amount of insulin. It was a good trick.
Nick started yelling behind the tape. “He’ll die! He’ll die!”
John squirmed on the bed, being careful not to move the sheets any farther.
Pack and Lug swore, then Lug told his friend to take the tape off Nick’s mouth.
Nick cried, “He needs his insulin, or he’ll die.”
Lug looked from John to the box of needles. “I may have some insulin in here.”
Nick’s eyes popped. What would happen if they really gave
John insulin? Would he pass out? Could he die? Nick didn’t know.
“He needs a special kind,” Nick said right away. “It’s a special dose. It has something else in it.”
Lug stood. “You’re lying, kid. There ain’t no special doses.”
Nick insisted, “You can’t just give him anything!”
John slowed down and then stopped, blinking and lying still. “I just cramped up. My thighs and shins. I feel better. Can I just lay here for a minute?”
Lug turned to Pack. “Go start the truck. Let’s get on the road. Don’t worry about the knockout juice just now. Let’s just get out of here. Got it?”
Pack nodded. “What about the horses?”
“We’ll look for them as we drive.”
Pack sauntered out of the bedroom and shut the door. Lug gazed thoughtfully at the two boys. “You think you’re pretty smart cookies, huh? Well, I’m a lot smarter. Don’t go trying to fake me out. I’m gonna give you the shot anyway. And sooner rather than later.”
Underneath the bedroom, the RV engine trembled then roared. The whole vehicle shook. Nick thought miserably there was no way Ally could do anything now.
The big vehicle chugged forward then stopped. A moment later, Pack was at the door. “We gotta flat, Lug.”
Giving the two boys a sharp look, Lug set his teeth. “Those were practically new tires.”
Pack looked at him helplessly.
Lug pulled John up by the collar just inches from his face. “You guys got a friend out there or somethin’? You’re not pullin’ somethin’, are you?”
“You think we did it?” Nick yelled.
Lug slapped Nick. “Listen, smart boy, anything happens while we’re out there, I swear, we’ll hurt you guys real good. And your friends, too! You better not ask for it. Understand?”
Nick could see the knife poking out from the sheets, but Lug had just thrust him over it.
“Come on, Pack. Let’s get this thing fixed.”
Seventeen
Molly’s Rescue Mission Stalls
When the engine roared to life, Ally watched the vehicle jolt forward about ten feet then stop. She realized if the men came out, she’d need to be on the door side of the vehicle to get inside and free John and Nick. She ran through the brush, watching the door so that she could stop and be quiet once the men emerged.
“Please, let both of them come out, Lord,” she murmured, keeping her eyes on the RV.
The front door opened, and Ally stopped, crouching in the sand. Pack was saying, “If anything can go wrong…What’s that saying?”
“It will!” Lug answered.
“What?”
“If anything can go wrong, it will!”
“Crummy idea,” Pack answered.
“You got that right,” Lug said.
Ally followed the two men with her eyes as they walked around to the back then to the other side of the RV. She had to move fast. She skirted the trees on the sand until she was opposite the front door.
“Now for the hard part,” she said as she crawled on her elbows and knees down a small trail in the growth.
“Hurry, Molly,” she said as she crawled. “Get the police here fast.” Peering beneath the RV, she saw the legs of the men by the tire. The RV tires are big, she reasoned, and those lug nuts are tight. It will take them at least ten minutes to figure out how to change the tire. Time to get moving.
V
Molly stood on top of a dune, her leg throbbing with pain. She’d taken off her windbreaker and made a kind of tourniquet, wrapping her ankle and shin in the back, drawing the ends of the jacket tight in front of her leg through the loops, and tying it. More scared than ever, she was about to limp back toward the ocean. There, between her and the houses, were the horses—sixteen of them—standing in the grass and peering at her with curious eyes. They were probably wondering if she’d pull out a gun and shoot them like the two thugs had tried earlier. She’d seen how the stallion had reacted to Pack. How could she go around the horses to reach the beach houses, another one hundred yards beyond?
The carrots! Molly dropped her pack and opened it. There were ten carrots, cubes of sugar, pulled-up grass, and apples. She hurled a handful at the horses, almost tripping over herself. The horses all darted back, frightened, but the stallion stood his ground. He threw back his head and sniffed the salty air.
“That’s right, sniff it,” Molly said quietly. “It’s good. It’ll taste good.”
Molly knew she had to keep moving just another hundred yards or so, but she had to get around the horses.
The big black horse pawed the ground in front of him; his huge hoof looked like a blacksmith’s anvil. To get kicked with one of those would hurt, Molly thought. That was the last thing she wanted to happen. Already dealing with the sprain, a kick or a bite would completely disable her and then she couldn’t complete her mission.
Molly took out another handful of carrots and apples and threw them even farther. One carrot fell within five feet of the stallion’s front hoof. He dipped his neck and head down, snuffling the treat.
Molly smiled and watched. “Go ahead,” she said. “It’s good. You’ll love it. Doesn’t anyone ever give you a treat? Poor little horsey. No treats?”
The horse pranced forward menacingly, and Molly staggered back. “Nice horse,” she said, holding out her hand as if that would deflect a kick or a blow.
The horse eyed her suspiciously.
What is he thinking? Molly wondered. Reassuringly she offered: “I don’t want to hurt you. I want to help you. I like you. I like all of you.”
The horse stood quiet and still. She wasn’t sure whether to speak or wait. Then the big stallion clopped forward to one of the carrots. He bent down and sniffed it, then raised his head, ducked, and whinnied. A second later, he gobbled up the carrot and chomped it in one magnificent bite.
“That’s it!” Molly said, clapping her hands. “Here’s more.”
She threw more of the treats to the horses. “Try that apple there. That’s real sweet. And if you’re good, I’ll give you sugar, too.”
The black horse suddenly whipped up its head and neighed loudly. Molly fell backward, hitting her rear end with a whump. In a moment, though, she realized the horse was either thanking her or giving her praise for the treat.
When the horse’s large red tongue slithered out and gobbled up another carrot, she clapped her hands.
“That’s it! Now have some more.”
The big horse stepped forward. All the others crowded around behind him. There were two foals in the group. They looked frightened, skittish, even more than the mares standing around the stallion. Molly wondered if the stallion drove out all the other males. Were they on another part of the island? There wasn’t much time to wonder, because the horses nosed forward, grabbing the carrots, apples, and sugar cubes in their teeth and chewing eagerly.
Molly began throwing the food out to her left so that she could go around the horses. They followed the line of her throw and soon were eating to her left, out of the way.
Molly gave them everything in her pack then hobbled toward her destination. The stallion reared back at the last moment, churned the air with his front hooves, and whinnied.
She laughed. “You’re welcome!”
The black horse turned to the others, and several of them whinnied, jostling their heads up and down as if laughing.
“Anytime,” Molly said, waving. Then she turned and limped as quickly as she could toward the houses. Mr. Tomoro’s was the closest. But Molly saw a figure standing on the porch of Mrs. Newton’s home. She hesitated, then realized Mr. Tomoro might not be up, and precious minutes would be wasted.
“Help!” she cried. “Someone’s trying to hurt the horses!”
The woman turned toward Molly. She was a skinny lady with sharp, angular features, a small nose, and a tired, unhappy mouth.
“Come here, child,” the widow called to her. “What’s the matter?”
“The horses!
” Molly cried. “Some men are trying to shoot a disease into them with a hypodermic gun.”
“Oh my!” the widow cried. “That’s awful. Come in, and we’ll call the police.”
Molly staggered to the porch, taking the last few steps by hopping on her good leg. “They may have real guns, too, and they were trying to harm the horses. And they got my brother, Nick, and our friend John. They were mean to them.”
“Come inside,” the widow said, visibly upset. She opened the porch door. “Let me call the police right now.”
Mrs. Newton held her hand out to Molly and smiled a rickety smile. Molly went past her into the house and looked around. There were lots of antiques and expensive-looking furniture. It was much nicer than their rental house.
Mrs. Newton’s Doberman gave her a sniff then sank down to the floor.
“This is a nice place,” Molly said.
“I like it,” the lady said, leading her to a chair. “Sit down. You’re hurt.”
“Yeah, I twisted my ankle running so hard.”
“You must be very brave.”
“Not really. Please call the police. Please call now.”
The Doberman watched Molly with slit, menacing eyes. She sensed him studying her. Something was wrong.
Eighteen
Nick and John Begin Their Escape
From the crow’s nest, Kelly had followed the horses with her video camera as they galloped within several hundred feet of the last house on the street. For a moment, they had stopped and congregated in an open area, snorting and jostling one another.
“I can’t believe everyone’s missing this,” she cried.
A moment later, she spotted Molly on the far side of the horses. What is she doing? Kelly wondered. Then: She’s limping! But where are John and the others? Kelly trained the video camera on the horses and began shooting as Molly threw the treats in her pack at the horses.
“This is great,” Kelly said. “The greatest. They’ll all go berserk when they see this,” she grinned. “And I’ll bet John hasn’t gotten any of it!”
Tracks in the Sand Page 6